Title Quote:
"I'd thought the man craven, but the day he confronted Aerys he found some courage somewhere. He did all he could to dissuade him. He reasoned, he jested, he threatened, and finally he begged. When that failed he took off his chain of office and flung it down on the floor. Aerys burnt him alive for that, and hung his chain about the neck of Rossart, his favorite pyromancer."
Jaime Lannister, A Storm of Swords
Rhaella surprised Lord Merryweather with her attendance at the banquet that night. For the life of her she would not have missed it, not with the waves the Northern delegation promised to cause at court. She had donned her mantle and veil to take her seat next to her husband up on the high table, the feel of the fabric uncomfortable on her raw back. She would bear it today.
The fat Hand had meant to seat himself next to the king, with Lord Rickard to the left of Aerys in the place of the guest of honor. Now Merryweather sat at the edge of the table, with Elia and her handmaidens also making a surprise appearance at Rhaella's side and pushing him down the order of importance. Lord Rickard was only flanked by the heir to the Vale and the Mallister lordling. A measured show of force of the Northern-Vale-Riverland faction, united in strife despite Brandon's folly.
Though expected, the absence of Brandon Stark was telling. The deference Elbert Arryn and Jeffory Mallister showed to the older Stark was an unpleasant surprise though. Lord Rickard became more relevant to the balance of the realm with every look for approval the two young men by his side directed towards him.
Even Lord Chelsted, who had claimed the seat beside them, did not yet try to either antagonize or ingratiate himself with Lord Stark yet. The man might be a craven, but he knew to read the flows of the king's favor and the ebb and flow of the court to his advantage. And Lord Stark was making big waves today.
Of course, Rickard was aware of this. He played up his disregard with the wider court as he talked quietly with her brother-husband. Rhaella could hear them from her place, the content of their talk was just so politically inane that she did not even bother to listen in detail.
Praise be the dragon.
Oh, King Aerys, you brought greater prosperity for the realm than even at the times then Jaehaerys I.
Your wife looks most lovely tonight, not needing to show off skin like all the fireflies trying to get your attention. Dignity personified, a consort befitting of a king.
Wait, what?
Rhaella turned her head and saw Lord Rickard's eyes on hers for a cursory second as Aerys bellowed out an agreement for the court to hear, praising himself more than his wife in the process for their blood of Old Valyria. The wolf was playing her husband, but he knew who understood the games in session right here.
I stand in awe of your dignity.
He was playing all of them with the same words. However, different games, different meanings. Masterful. He was probably having fun as well.
Insufferable man.
Not all lords in attendance were happy with the obvious favor Lord Stark showed he carried with the king right now. Rhaegar's faction had taken the heaviest hit when the wolf and the old dragon stood united in purpose. The mighty beasts had different goals, maybe, but the same way might carry them there together.
Luckily Viserys, Rhaenys and Aegon were in the nursery, leaving Rhaella with the freedom to watch all the factions and their players. Connington, Rhaegar's most stalwart defender in his absence, was for now only watching with a growing impotent rage. Elia was sitting slightly amused on the sidelines. She knew her act would come up.
Varys could be seen appearing in the corners of the room at times, untraceable as always. Some servants were especially young today, were there some little birds among them? It did not matter; Varys would find out what he wanted in time and there was little one could do. He was not one to look out for today.
Lord Chelsted was still on the fence, Lords Celtigar and Bar Emmon lost without instructions. They would decry Lord Stark if he misstepped or join him when it suited their agenda. Lord Stark would not misstep, Rhaella knew.
Lord Jeffory and Lord Elbert had risen and seated themselves with some of the ladies from the Crownlands, a Stokeworth and a Rosby among them, waiting for the moment the music started. The field was prepared, and the spark would be lit soon. Rhaella wondered how the old wolf would set the ball rolling.
Rickard Stark did not disappoint.
"Oh yes, my king, I must thank your Hand for helping me with the matter of naming Brandon attainted. Lord Merryweather. I thank you for finding the time in your busy schedule today to draft the document for the disinheritance of my firstborn, putting that unsavory matter behind us quickly. Sometimes I wonder if other lords face similar troubles with their eldest as well...
"Lord Hand, I am also in awe at how quickly you managed to organize such a grand feast at the same time. You honor us with the lavish food. On this short a term and with the food situation in the capital, it almost feels prohibitive to indulge us. You must have emptied the markets for us today. I hear they call you the Horn-of-Plenty Hand, Lord Merryweather, both nobles and peasants. A fitting title, my lord, and in this setting it does you honor."
Marvelous. Simply marvelous. The composition. To open with a matter of national importance that would grab all the ears in the assembly. Raising your voice to address the Hand, today surprisingly seated away from the king, reaching a volume loud enough to carry throughout the whole hall as if estimating the acoustics wrongly. The unsavory matter of disappointing firstborn sons. A common problem among lords, and then there was Rhaegar. Aerys' rising distrust of his heir was well known by now.
Giving a back-handed compliment to the Hand, widely known for the sumptuous feasts the man was proud of. It could be received either way, praise or derision, coupled with either disregard or concern for the starving smallfolk. Whatever the lords in attendance feared or wanted to hear, they had just gotten the confirmation they expected. And then Rickard raised his cup to the king for the master stroke, conveniently forgetting to lower his voice again.
"My king. It would be to my greatest honor if you could put your signature to the document regarding my son as well. Nobody would dare question it for eternity, if it bore the mark of the dragon."
So it started. An attack on Rhaegar, not surprising, but oh, the execution. Aerys let loose a pleased cackle. And Connington rose, fuming.
Never one for patience, that one. A strutting griffon did not make a social butterfly. Huffing and puffing he came up the dais, a familiar sight, so the guards let him through. But today there was no Rhaegar to receive him. And no Arthur to restrain him from folly, so the griffon lord sat himself in Lord Elbert's seat with impudence. Lord Rickard did not even acknowledge him, locked in hushed conversation with Aerys again.
The Stormlord's quiet attempts at Rickard Stark's attention went unanswered and the man had to clear his throat and reach for the older man's shoulder. Oh, the indignity, on display for all the people in attendance. Lord Chelsted looked like a hawk, now expecting his moment to strike. Rhaella saw Varys behind the curtain at the dais. It seemed the Spider was now paying his complete attention to the happenings at the table, as did the whole room.
Rickard Stark turned, and the confusion looked so genuine on his face. Like a man truly unversed in court, and as if all this mummery was the truth. Rickard Stark did not stammer, that would have been giving it away. The halting words of caution hit the tone perfectly.
"I'm sorry, ser, I am not familiar with the livery you wear. I heard the approach but assumed it was Lord Elbert returning. Please, do tell me your name and the lord you are in service at."
That must have stung, for at court Lord Connington was a familiar presence. Of middling importance in the Stormlands maybe, but he had attached himself early to Rhaegar and still stuck to him openly throughout all his troubles. The griffin would rise when Rhaegar took the throne. If, now.
But a savage Northman was excused from not knowing court members of prominence and Stormlords of currently middling importance. Still, it must have rankled as Connington answered Rickard Stark a lot more deflated than his temperament had promised when the man had sat down.
"I am Jon Connington, Lord of Griffin's Roost. Lord Stark, I believe we have important matters to discuss."
The thought why Jon Connington presumed the Warden of the North owed him his attention, much less a discussion seemed to flit over Rickard Stark's face before being replaced by a look of clarity, as if inspiration struck and he could see through all that the young Stormlord wanted to speak of.
A look of understanding and even a certain warmth graced Rickard Stark's face as he reached out to clasp Connington's forearm, greeting him as if they were familiar. The discussion that followed between the two was quietly watched by the whole room, and it was definitely not to Connington's expectations. However, it definitely exceeded all of Rhaella's.
"Ah yes, Griffin's Roost, of the Stormlands. Neighbor to Storm's End. Have you arrived on behalf of Lord Baratheon, to ask the throne for the matter of Prince Rhaegar riding off with my daughter, his fiancée?"
Lord Rickard seemed excited to meet the unexpected ally, and for the Stormlord to approach him so openly at the feast.
"No, my lord, I was already at court. I was bewildered as any when Lord Brandon stormed in with his rash accusation. It came as a surprise to all of us at court. Preposterous, that Crown Prince Rhaegar would do such a thing."
Lord Connington seemed surprised by the warmth Lord Stark showed him, and taken aback by his presumptions. They were, of course, purely logical. To expect a lord to stand by his liege. Connington tried to turn the game around; unsuccessfully, as Rickard proved.
"Yes, my stupid first born was being stupid. A sorry business, and how it developed. I am eternally grateful to my king for his leniency. And I wholly agree with your statement regarding prince Rhaegar. Preposterous. Of him to abduct my little girl."
Rhaella heard Elia beside her choke on her wine, along with a few suppressed chuckles among the lords in attendance. It was all so natural. Did they even suspect Rickard Stark of cunning, or did they all see a Northern barbarian with no guile, as they wanted to see? Connington was turning a shade of red already, barely a moment into the conversation.
"You mistake me, my lord. I meant it is preposterous to assume that Prince Rhaegar could be so vile as to abduct a young maiden. I believe a big misunderstanding is afoot, the crown prince will surely resolve it soon."
At least Connington managed not to explode in Lord Stark's face. Yet. He had that tendency when the prince was insulted in his presence. Mayhap he at least saw reason in not offending Lord Stark. The Northern did present himself the head of a powerful faction, and a man that spoke his feelings. And Rickard Stark continued to play that role as he spoke on, turning from confused and stunned at Connington's careful accusation, to angry at the Stormlord.
"Assume? I did not, my lord. The king, my king confirmed that the prince abducted my daughter. Do you question that? There is no assumption of guilt. The king in his mercy has granted his son time for clemency. He loves his firstborn despite his act towards my daughter. I deeply respect that, for have I not come here to beg for my son despite his foolishness?
"And my king understood, and he granted my son mercy and promised justice for my daughter. Now, I ask you, Lord Connington. As a Stormlord, where is your fury on behalf of your liege?! Your king's cousin once removed! That found his fiancée! My Daughter! Abducted?!"
Rickard's voice grew louder and louder as he spoke, reaching the ends of the hall. His tone devolved into a wolf's growl by the end, but still clearly understandable. His Northern accent tinged his voice for the first time, painting him the savage the court had seen in his son Brandon.
Aerys beside Rhaella was quietly giggling at the spectacle and Merryweather was running off towards the musicians, to save the banquet. Lord Chelsted seemed like a cat on the prowl, ready to jump in on the discussion with accusations aplenty. The king's favor had fallen towards Lord Stark tonight. Connington could only scramble to save some face still and try for the purpose of his prince.
"Lord Stark you misjudge me! I am a loyal lord of the Stormlands. However, the prince is my friend. Trust me, the prince will come forward and clear up this misunderstanding. He may even be interested in courting your daughter, would that not appease you? You must have heard that his wife has become barren. Princess Elia cannot bear him more heirs, to secure the prosperity of House Targaryen. Is that not what we all wish for?"
The foolish boy. Rhaella did not believe Connington cared for a second which woman would grace Rhaegar's arm; rather, his disdain towards their entire sex could not be more pronounced. Sometimes Rhaella wondered how her son could not see the man for what he wanted out of their association. But Rhaegar was obviously immature in such matters, as his most recent exploit now showed the whole realm.
Rhaegar must have only seen that Connington was not interested in him for his royal favor, and that had been enough for him. Oh yes, it was just a lady's favor Connington craved for from his silver prince. And while his talk did not manage to pacify Lord Stark, with his disgrace he had already served his purpose. He had even allowed Rickard to now move on to the next point in his agenda. Elia.
The music started to play. It seemed Lord Merryweather had finally reached the bards. Rhaella could see Lord Elbert and Lord Jeffory rise with the Stokeworth and the Rosby from earlier as Rickard started speaking to Connington again, the Northman stone-faced and his voice as ice.
"Did you know, boy, that I had started negotiations for Lord Baratheon's betrothal with his lord father, the late Lord Steffon? The closest kin of my king while he was alive, aside from his beautiful queen. The cousin whom my king bore a lot of love for, and whom Lord Steffon loved dearly in return. He told me so, before he set off to find his cousin's son a true bride. A task that, to his eternal sorrow, Steffon could not fulfill, before he died in that infernal storm four years ago in front of his son.
"Steffon, whose death forced the king to find replacement in a Dornishwoman of all people as a bride for his son. I believe your liege Robert Baratheon would be furious with you right now if he knew. I believe your liege's father Steffon would be furious with you right now."
"You are not here to speak for your liege, boy. You are not here to speak for your king, either, for his stance on the matter is clear. I don't see a Stormlord loyal to his liege in you, Connington, I don't even see a Stormlord that is loyal to the king. I name you a sycophant of the prince that took my daughter. You say to trust you, that all this is a misunderstanding. Do you know then, where the prince took my daughter? I shall trust you if you can answer me in full."
The beautiful queen? Rickard had only seen her bruised and battered. Rhaella would accept his compliments to her poise, she had acted to earn them, even as they pleased her. But beautiful she could not dare to accept. Beautiful, Rhaella had to say, today she was not. It would not do for her, to believe others could still think of her as such. That way only lay hurt. Joanna had told Rhaella she was beautiful, when she still was young. As had Mariah, and her daughter Elia sometimes still told her.
Aerys had said so as well when he was younger, but with him it was never a compliment, it had been a statement of vanity. That Aerys owned her, such a beautiful bride. There had only been two other men who had dared Rhaella's father's and grandfather's wrath in saying she was beautiful to her face. Sweet Bonifer, with nothing to lose. And Steffon. Rhaella had loved her cousin. Just as Aerys.
The realm knew of their close bond, with Tywin and Joanna and Cassana as well. Where Tywin had no regard for beauty but Joanna's, Steffon was jovial and generous with his compliments. The reminder of him stung. Rhaella felt a tear in her eye and she could not tell if it was of remembrance or resigned sorrow. It would only bring hurt if she chose to believe in Rickard's compliment.
As long as Aerys was her gaoler, hope could only end in pain. Blinking to see clearly again, Rhaella saw Connington's star sink in the king's eyes. As Connington could only answer with silence, Rickard dismissed the Stormlord, now that Connington had served his purpose.
"Lord Connington, in the North I would purge a vassal as disloyal as you. I will inform my future son-in-law of our discussion today. Actually, I wish it never happened. You insult me. You insult my daughter. She is the daughter of a Lord Paramount, not the replacement of a replacement. Not the replacement for a Dornishwoman.
"How did you ever get the guards to let you through and approach me? Remove yourself, boy, before I fail to contain myself any longer."
Before Connington could comply or object, Aerys managed to get his rage under control. Connington should have fled. He did not, and Aerys ordered the guards to approach with a gesture before he spoke. Aerys would not burn Connington, he'd had his fix for today. And the Stormlord was a fixture at court, known by face to too many people. Those people would become afraid if he burnt, and Aerys was in control enough today to not commit another folly. He would, however, prove himself cruel tonight. Rhaella felt a shiver.
"Lord Stark speaks my mind. You will be removed from our presence for this evening, Connington. Guards. Please escort Lord Connington to spend a night in the Black Cells. Tomorrow, when Lord Connington has reflected on the transgression he committed this evening, set him free outside the River Gate so he may return to his keep. I banish him from my court."
The guards carried out their order as Connington complied. All knew not to question the king. Prince Rhaegar had just lost the most vocal supporter he had in the Capital. That would hurt his faction as the news of the dismissal made their rounds and how it came to be. Her husband was twitching furiously in his seat now, Lord Stark beside him with the face of a storm waiting to happen. None approached as the music continued to play and the two men ate in silence.
Lord Merryweather had returned to his seat and was quaking in his boots at the sight of his king in his fury, his three chins quivering. The older lords in the hall watched the raised table, likely speculating on which way the wind would blow tomorrow, after today's north wind had passed. The younger lords were locked in their dances, courtly games on display. All the daughters in attendance, it seemed, were sent towards Lord Elbert and Lord Jeffory.
As Lord Stark's two young attendees danced with the ladies of the Reach, spun around their friends from the Riverlands and the Vale, laughed with the Crownland women, approached the girls of the Stormlands and stole chaste kisses from the maidens of the Westerlands, people started to notice as the third Dornishwomen tonight being rejected by Jeffory Mallister and the fourth by Elbert Arryn. With the next lady the pattern became obvious, and tongues were sent wagging. None tried after the seventh lady to be rebuffed.
Coupled with Lord Stark's comments earlier, a clear stance of Lord Stark's faction quickly became apparent. Lord Chelsted moved to take Connington's seat beside Lord Stark, likely to ingratiate himself as much with the Warden of the North as Chelsted had with Aerys, now that Rickard Stark had calmed once more.
And Qarlton Chelsted, while no more important than Connington in the wider scheme of things, received an entirely different welcome compared to the Stormlord. Seeing Rickard positively delighted at his approach made Lord Chelsted hesitate for a second. But Lord Stark displayed no cunning, no guile, no falsehood. And Rickard Stark seemed so sincere as he spoke.
"Ah, Lord Chelsted. A true leal subject of the king, I heard say. You know, my lord, you were one of the men I contemplated approaching to help me in asking for mercy for my son, but in the end I could not bring myself to ask a good man to beg with me for clemency when the harm to my house was self-inflicted. Please tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"
Rhaella well knew there was anything but pleasure to the company of the craven now seated to the side of the king. Still, seeing Lord Chelsted fall to the words he so often wove himself, a barely restrained smile splitting his face, gave Rhaella a small measure of satisfaction. She had always known Chelsted would be the one to approach.
Craven the man may be, a sycophant without compare, but Qarlton Chelsted always did press foremost for his own personal advantages, and he pursued those relentlessly. Rhaella had seen Rickard give cursory glances to other lords that followed the favor of the king like hounds, Giles Rosby and Symond Staunton. But those lacked the thirst for power that put Chelsted ahead of them, so Chelsted came over first and Chelsted spoke first.
"Lord Stark, you honor with your words and your thoughts. I would have come stand with you in a heartbeat, for do we not all have the best in mind for the realm and our families? I want to apologize that I did not have men immediately remove the impudent griffin earlier when he had spoken so brazenly. I did believe him to come in support of his liege, never would I have thought him capable of such treachery."
Of course not, Lord Chelsted. Then how come that you are always the first to decry Rhaegar and his faction of treason for actions like breathing? The horror! Rhaella was at the first time glad of her veil tonight, she did believe her mask had a weak point regarding men like Lord Chelsted. Those that reinforced Aerys in his belief of his infallibility and drove him to indulge in his madness and cruelty.
Just like right now you had waited for Rickard Stark's reaction to Connington and saw how it played into your own designs and warnings regarding Rhaegar and Elia, didn't you, Lord Chelsted? Lord Stark played the Crownlander that failed to suppress an elated smile at his new Northern friend as he answered and Lord Chelsted just took the wolf's words at face value. Rickard Stark was, after all, only a savage Northman.
"Lord Chelsted, please, that young lordling's failings could not be laid at your feet. I see you only a man of integrity, to apologize for not acting before you even could know disaster would strike. There is no fault to be found with you. You are a man of character, my lord. Never let it be said otherwise. I strive to be that myself, to always reach to be better. To fulfill the obligations of a lord and inspire loyalty in my vassals.
"It pains me, to see people unlike us, Connington and his ilk, that just latch on to the foolish prince despite living during the reign of King Aerys II, the man that brought the longest time of peace since old Jaehaerys, and only because our king has not reigned long enough in comparison. Lord Chelsted, you have been at court long enough. Tell me, good man, what do you think is leading young prince Rhaegar astray?"
Rhaella could well believe that Rickard was having a great time, seeing all these fools around taking his words as valid as a priest would the Seven-Pointed Star. It seemed he could get away with the most outlandish exaggerations to Rhaella. She could only imagine how truly derisive Rickard Stark thought of a man of character like Qarlton Chelsted. And the bait, so deliciously prepared.
The dismissiveness throughout the evening. The refused dances. The off-handed comments. All for this moment, so that a sycophant like Chelsted would attack the faction most foreign to the capital. And he did, all but giving the game to the Northern predator.
"My lord Stark, I see you have a keen eye, to recognize the prince was led to his downfall by another. Lord Connington is a fool, it is true, but in one thing he spoke truth. I also believe a daughter of your raising would have made a proper princess to our prince. But not as a replacement, that would be unworthy of a man such as you. The daughter of a man as loyal and true to the realm as you, Lord Stark, could have kept prince Rhaegar on the right path and would have made him a great queen someday.
"Sadly, those Dornish vipers the king invited to our court, to help them become a more integral part of the Seven Kingdoms, have proven themselves to be just as vain and treacherous as their reputation. I fear the prince is lost, seduced by the princess and her handmaidens, maybe even some of their normal attendants. How shameful of the Dornish, how they have repaid our king's generosity!"
Rickard looked almost horrified right there, something that not even wildfire beneath him had caused. How did they not suspect Rickard Stark of deceit? Would Rhaella have been like the rest of the court had she not talked privately to Rickard before? To believe him to be genuine in all his naïve emotions and unquestioning honesty? She hoped she would have suspected him, but then all everyone ever knew of the wolf in the North was his quiet dignity and stern honesty.
How long had he assumed this mask, or was it only here in the south? Could court be so different in Winterfell, that people could be true and themselves there? Rhaella never left her thoughts wander, not since Aerys started locking her in at the Maidenvault at times. She would never leave King's Landing as long as Aerys was here to keep her by his side.
I stand in awe of your dignity.
Insufferable man, Rickard Stark was too talented in his mummery. How could Rhaella ever trust a word the man said, knowing the intelligent cunning Rickard Stark possessed? Just seeing him now, acting indignant to help Rhaella's granddaughter, could it ever work out as Rickard Stark had planned with Elia? Rickard's next words gave Rhaella the answer, spoken with a quiet intensity.
"Dornishmen! Others take them! Vipers and deviants, the lot of them. To tell you the truth, Lord Chelsted, I am hardly surprised. You know what they say about the Dornish. But have they truly gained that much influence, here in the capital? Are steps being taken to insure the children are safe-guarded? Despite their mother, prince Aegon and princess Rhaenys are trueborn Targaryens, of the noblest stock."
The queen could almost see Chelsted licking his lip. This was what he was always pushing for, to diminish Dornish influence in the capital. The man thought he saw an opening, and he went for it.
"You have the right of them, Lord Stark. That man earlier, Connington? Rumor has it he might be a sword swallower. And he has become the one of the prince's closest confidants. Dornish acceptance of such deviance is well known, isn't it? And now the Dornish occupy two spots on the Kingsguard!
"Elia Martell always has her husband's ear. There are times prince Rhaegar speaks but it is Elia Martell's words you can hear. Disgraceful, that's what it is. The Dornish princess should defer more to her princely husband, like our gracious queen does to our king, but they do not teach women to be ladies in Dorne I fear.
"Fret not though, Lord Stark, prince Rhaegar's heir is being seen to, the little Aegon the picture of a proper Targaryen. I have heard tell that our king intends to help educate the crown prince's son himself in matters of rule and kingship as little Aegon grows."
Rhaella could almost feel the bile rise in her throat. Did she imagine the way Rickard's eyes darken as Chelsted prattled on? She wasn't sure. It did not matter, anyway. What did matter that she could see the outline this conversation would take now, even if she was not sure how Lord Stark would press his suit to foster Rhaella's darling Rhaenys.
As it turned out, Rickard Stark wouldn't press his suit. No, the perfidious man knew exactly who was in front of him as Lord Chelsted worked himself up in his indignation and Aerys leaned in to hear tell of traitors and how to punish them. And Lord Chelsted was about to deliver to the old wolf what Rickard Stark wanted after just another sentence from the savage Northman.
"But what about the little princess Rhaenys? I hear she already has the Dornish coloring; we cannot allow her temperament to be tainted by the Dornish as well. To have her disregard the sanctity of marriage between one man and one woman, as both old and new gods agree. Is there not a loyal subject that can raise princess Rhaenys to behave as the Targaryen she was born to be?"
Rhaella could see Aerys gears turning. Her husband did not care that sweet little Rhaenys was raised right. He cared for the opportunity to humility Elia and punish his daughter-in-law for imagined slights. Chelsted could see it, too. But the Crownlander was becoming wary. Did he make the conversation flow this way? And Rickard saw the man's hesitance, and so Rickard spoke and squashed all of the craven's suspicions.
"Lord Chelsted. Would you not be the perfect man to raise Princess Rhaenys as your ward, a true and loyal subject to the throne?"
The temptation. The gratitude of the king as Lord Chelsted showed the Dornishmen their place. The gratitude of the prince as Lord Chelsted acted the safeguard to his daughter from the erratic king. The gratitude of the infant princess when she had grown up, molded by Lord Chelsted's tutelage.
But then Lord Chelsted recognized the drawbacks. Princess Rhaenys would never be a royal of much importance, too Dornish, and just a princess to be wedded away. The prince would not forget Chelsted's previous slights and recognize the man's maneuvering for what it was.
And, worst of all, Chelsted would have to remove himself from court and the source of power, his place of influence at Aerys' side, to raise princess Rhaenys in his own halls. Lord Chelsted could not be the Master of Coin any longer. So, the man needed to find reason to refuse, but to do so without refusing the intention. And Lord Chelsted tried, but...
"Lord Stark. It would be my greatest honor. Yet I fear to leave the court without people to stand up to the Dornish, and I fear they would manage to place one of their agents as the next Master of Coin and try to rob our king of his taxes. Maybe we should not –"
"Then another of the king's loyal men? Lord Merryweather sadly cannot, as the Hand he cannot be expected to leave his post here in the capital, not with the splendid job he is doing. A year ago, I would have put Lord Tywin forward, but not after his disgraceful conduct last year, when our king honored him by naming his son to the Kingsguard? No, not Tywin Lannister. Maybe one of the honorable Lords Rosby, Staunton or Velaryon?"
And Lord Chelsted had lost. With Rickard pressing him before he could change the subject, interrupting him before he could decry the idea. And the men Rickard named, such good options for the task. Of course, they would want to decline for the same reason as Chelsted. Rhaella could see Rosby and Staunton, scrambling closer from their seats at the table. But all of them were in a bind.
They could not take on the task of fostering Rhaenys, for it remove them from the capital. Yet they could also not have one of their fellow sycophants, the exact lords Rickard Stark mentioned, take on the task either, for there was favor to be found. The bumbling lords almost fell over each other as Staunton and Rosby fought over the seat next to Chelsted, trying to make their point.
"Lord Stark, I could not help but overhear your ingenious idea, but as Master of Laws I cannot abandon my seat in the capital at the moment." Lord Staunton heaved as he spoke.
Lord Rosby picked up immediately as Staunton took a breath: "My lord, I fear my seat is too close to King's Landing, the Princess Elia would just waltz in at her leisure and we would not be able to keep the Dornish influence contained."
Rhaella could see the Darry brother's making their way over, likely to press their suit to have their family take on the responsibility. Gerold Hightower was similarly approaching, but they were not the guards closest to the king at the moment. Those were Jaime and Barristan, too unversed in politics to care for such matters, even if the Selmys were a compromise that all lords in attendance could probably agree on as a foster family for the little princess. In the meantime, Chelsted spoke to prevent his last direct rival from becoming foster father to a princess.
"Lord Stark, Lord Rosby makes an excellent point that I fear also applies for Lord Velaryon. Driftmark is sworn to Dragonstone, which prince Rhaegar rules and where Princess Elia spends a lot of her days. The island is a common waypoint on their way over, they could simply invalidate our purpose. I suggest we overthink –"
"What about Lord Mace Tyrell?"
And Rickard Stark gave the death knell. Chelsted once more found himself interrupted. Would he not come to suspect the old Wolf? The solution was so obvious. Lord Mace Tyrell, famously loyal, famously ambitious and famously stupid. And the son of the Queen of Thorns. A point that did not matter to Aerys, obviously, for what could a dainty rose and a frail woman at that ever do to prick a dragon?
Of course the other lords were not that blind-sided to the dangers of Olenna Tyrell of House Redwyne, a woman who in two generations managed to unify three of the five most important houses of the Reach with her son's marriage to Alerie Hightower. Gerold was already returning to his post. The Darry's would not find purchase anymore, so they dispersed as well. Rhaella could see Aerys convincing himself already that the idea was actually his all along.
Rhaella could also see Chelsted, Staunton and Rosby thinking of reasons against the Tyrells. Of a better alternative. A man that appeared steadfastly loyal. Maybe not as ambitious, or if so, similarly stupid. Or at least lacking in cunning and guile, and definitely without an Olenna-Tyrell-type at their back. And a man of similar station as Lord Tyrell, because all else would be an insult to the Warden of the South when word of this very public discussion reached him.
That eliminated the Selmys and the Darrys, the Whents and the Hightowers as candidates. Lord Chelsted seemed to notice the obvious candidate first. He remained silent as he noticed it, looking at Rickard Stark as if he was a whole different person suddenly. Lord Rosby got the idea second. He, however, had not been interrupted twice in the row when he tried to table the manner of the princess' fostering, so Giles Rosby spoke his mind.
"Why, Lord Stark, would it not be a great idea if you took in the little princess? There is no place farther from Dorne and the court than the North, sweet Rhaenys would be well out of Dornish reach. I cannot say I have seen a more loyal lord than you. And would it not have a sense of poetic justice, with prince Rhaegar taking your daughter to corrupt her with wicked Dornish ways and you being awarded the prince's daughter to foster, to remove the Dornish corruption from her?"
The banquet could have ended right there, for Rhaella could see Aerys already coming to terms with the idea. Lord Staunton gave his support for the plan next and Chelsted followed along after a reluctant pause. After all, it would not do appear discontent with the idea now when even the king had the look of agreement to him.
Rhaella could see the Spider removing himself from the great hall as Lord Stark put up a half-hearted fight for courtesy's sake, the old wolf slowly coming to accept the praises of the sycophants. Aerys gave the proclamation of his decision not even 15 minutes later, awarding Lord Stark with the wardship of his granddaughter.
Afterwards, it seemed as if Lord Stark gave up the control of the conversation to Lord Chelsted, apparently having reached all his goals for the evening. It devolved into banalities for the rest of the night, Lord Chelsted becoming mollified again to the seemingly harmless wolf but not daring to bring up contentious matters in any way lest the predator awoke. Only once more did Lord Stark bring up a topic of his own again, and it could not have been more tedious to Rhaella as it was just inviting all the men to brag. War stories.
For when men have tired of all interesting things to talk about, they talk of past glories. Wildling raids. Recent conflicts. The Ninepenny Wars. The Kingswood Brotherhood. Old stuff. Until Rickard Stark asked the Kingsguard to share their experience, inviting them to the table one by one with the king's permission. For after all, the Kingsguard's glory was the king's glory and Aerys loved his glorious accomplishments.
Ser Lewyn was guarding the nursery and Elia soon disappeared with her entourage. Ser Jonothor Darry talked of his accomplishments. Ser Barristan Selmy gave an account of his, more modest than bold in his embellishments. Ser Gerold Hightower retold a bare bones version of all his life's important fights, though Rhaella got the distinct impression he was wary of Lord Stark. Something to ask Jamie later, who came up next to tell his accomplishments.
Jaime Lannister did not have much to talk about. The youngest of the Kingsguard, kept confined at the Red Keep like a hostage. No tourneys since he became a knight, only his bout with the Brotherhood as a squire. It looked like Rickard Stark took pity on him.
The Warden of the North asked Jaime Lannister to retell the story of the Reyne-Tarbeck-Rebellion instead, in the way Jaime's father Tywin had told of his accomplishments to his son. One of the few stories Aerys still liked about his former Hand, an innocent choice for Rickard to make. Lord Stark seemed fascinated, as if the story was new and not the most well-known massacre in recent memory.
It was as Jaime ended with a short 'and now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear' when Lord Jeffory and Lord Elbert returned from their dancing. Exactly as Jaime ended. And they in turn asked for their own retelling of the Rains of Castamere.
But by now Aerys had grown bored of the story. All saw this, and conveniently Lord Stark said right then it was time for him to retire. If young Jaime could not tell the story once more to his young friends Jeffory and Elbert on their way out.
Another innocent request which Aerys granted, so the party rose together, the young lords falling in behind the old wolf as they made their way out, locked in discussion. Lord Stark moved around the hall, bidding farewell to lords and ladies left and right as he made for the door.
It seemed Jaime once more reached the end of his tale. The young knight said his goodbyes to the two young lords and Lord Stark. Nobody cared about them anymore, so only Rhaella noticed as Rickard snuck Jaime a piece of paper and leaned in to whisper something. Had Rickard Stark tarried for this very reason?
Jaime looked up, apparently unconsciously, and locked eyes with Rhaella across the hall and the Queen could see Rickard follow Jaime's gaze, until Rickard's grey eyes also landed on Rhaella's purple ones.
A sly, wolfish grin appeared on the old wolf's face. Then Rickard Stark winked. Winked! The insolent man! Rickard slipped Jaime another paper, whispered again into Jaime's ears and turned towards the door, Elbert Arryn and Jeffory Mallister flanking Rickard Stark on both side in lockstep. The music still played, in tune with Lord Stark's steps now as he exited the hall. Or the other way round.
Rhaella did not stay around for long after. She managed to persuade Aerys to have Jaime guard her on the way back and immediately brought him into her room for questioning.
"What did Rickard Stark give you at the end of the banquet, and what did he say to you?"
The young lion hesitated for a second, then reached into his pockets and brought out the two pieces of paper she'd noticed earlier. He took out the papers, one a nice, folded letter on rich creamy paper and the other a smaller piece rolled up with a violet ribbon and held them out towards her as he spoke.
"This one is an invitation to my father, to come to his son's wedding at Riverrun. Lord Stark said he left space underneath for me to sign as well. And 'for my handler to put their name to it as well'. The phrasing was so geared towards you and yet not, it confused me for second, and then he immediately slipped me a second letter and said it's for your eyes only, my queen. Why did he not say the same with the first letter? I cannot figure it out..."
Jaime had been played. Rhaella knew Rickard suspected something about the young Lannister after he flinched at their afternoon talk, now he knew of the youngest Kingsguard's allegiance for certain. Rhaella closed her eyes for a second.
It was not Jaime's fault, but Rhaella would need to instruct him closely in the future. She turned to the letters and decided to deal with her personal letter first and the wedding invitation for Tywin Lannister after.
The personal note almost turned out a disappointment, the matter discussed so incredibly unimportant to her. Yet the letter did not disappoint at all, exciting in a different way.
My lovely, dignified queen,
I have had an extended conversation with my son Brandon after our talks with the princess today and was sad but not surprised to find the accusations against him to be true.
In light of his transgressions I have decided to change my plans for him and would ask you to change his future position from lord of Moat Cailin to the castellan of the restored castle. Please continue to keep the entire matter quiet as discussed and extend my condolences to princess Elia.
I hope to see both of you upon my departure when I leave with princess Rhaenys for Riverrun tomorrow.
I remain faithfully your loyal subject,
Rickard Stark
Besides the appellation, which Rhaella silently but with vehemence protested, the most incredible thing about the letter was that it must have been penned before Rickard Stark arrived at the banquet. All the lords tonight had been puppets on the wolf's strings, and they were still thinking themselves players.
The realization was frightening, and imagining such a control and command of power was exhilarating. Rhaella put away the letter among her private correspondence and took up the other rich and creamy paper. It was a wedding invitation, nothing more, nothing less. But why tell her?
Rhaella thought back to their afternoon talks, on Rickard Stark's predictions about the war. The Riverlands divided, the North and Vale reclusive, the Westerlands funding both sides. In Riverrun all the makers and breakers would now meet, maybe a last time before the storm.
What were Rickard Stark's plans regarding Tywin before the events here at the capital? How would those plans change with Tywin at the table in Riverrun? Was Rickard Stark really going to remain above the Neck? Would he push his alliance in the Riverlands forward to bring more power behind him in the war? Would he look to join forces with Tywin as well, holding out with three and a half kingdoms to sway the entire coming war in his favor in the end?
And why inform Rhaella that moves were being taken? She could not see the purpose it served. Was Rickard Stark trying for Rhaella to advance herself with a new faction of her own, or fall in with Elia's?
Or was the man planning something else entirely and merely trying to throw Rhaella and Elia off, now that he had presented them with a plausible prognosis for the war? To just threaten to flip the whole board? What was Rickard Stark's game? Rhaella knew she would not get much sleep tonight, deliberating on that insolent man and all these questions.
What, by the old gods and the new, was Rickard Stark up to?
For all of you thirsty for heartthrob Ned, I could not get this snippet out of my head. Enjoy.
A lady of the Vale: "Oh, Great Ned, thou weavest words like a poet, why dost thou not speaketh more?"
The Great Ned: "Fair maiden, if I spoketh more, I would physically drowneth in pussy."
Ashara: "Thot, be goneth. The only pussy the Great Ned shalleth be drowned in is mine."